


Until Proven Guilty

by Tinuviel_Undomiel



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Rumbelle - Fandom
Genre: Betrayal, Double Jeopardy AU, F/M, Fake Murder, Imprisonment, Revenge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-16 18:10:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8112289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tinuviel_Undomiel/pseuds/Tinuviel_Undomiel
Summary: AU based on the film Double Jeopardy: Callum Gold had it all, beautiful wife, wonderful son, and a great best friend. But when his wife is seemingly murdered and he is convicted for the crime, he discovers a wealth of betrayal and heartbreak. Meanwhile, only his assistant Belle believes in his innocence and he works to find his son and get revenge.





	1. Happy Anniversary

**Author's Note:**

> This idea got stuck in my head and wouldn't get out. Since it's been a while since my muse cooperated, I decided to just go ahead and let it loose. I do hope everyone enjoys it. 
> 
> Warning: There will be scenes in prison. If anyone has issues with that, this may not be the story for you.

The town of Storybrooke, Maine was founded by miners in 1803. It has always remained a very small town, largely forgotten by the rest of the world and the residents prefer to keep it that way. Because the town is so small and so isolated, the crime rate is very low. There is only one police officer and that is the sheriff. Primarily his job is to find the teenagers who egg houses every year on Halloween and make them clean their mess.

            There is only one known murder in the town’s history. It also occurred in 1803. The miners were so enraged by the harsh conditions inflicted on them by their supervisor that seven of them hacked him to pieces with their pickaxes. It is not a story often told to any tourists who happen to find the town.

            Storybrooke was the sort of town one would expect for everyone to keep their doors unlocked, kids went to one school for twelve years, and everyone enjoyed the same apple pie at the same diner every Sunday. The murders, rapes, and all around wicked things were to be found in Boston or New York, not Storybrooke.

            Which is why the story that follows would rock the sleepy coastal town for years to come.

* * *

            It was proving to be a surprisingly busy Thursday for Belle French. Her morning class had included an exam she still wasn’t feeling too sure about. Then her bus had been packed because of some sort of convention going on. To top it all off, a large shipment of antique tools had arrived and she’d already cut herself while sorting it all out.

            Mr. Callum Gold was in the back of the antique and pawnshop going through his rental agreements for a new property he had bought. He had said only hello when she arrived and directed her to the box of product. He seemed a bit testy this morning. Belle couldn’t help but wonder if he’d had another fight with Milah. She tried not to pry into Mr. Gold’s personal life, but she knew that not everything between him and his wife were smooth. She didn’t know the particulars and she didn’t dare ask why.

            On the other hand, his relationship with his son, Baedan, was wonderful. The little four-year-old was often found at his father’s shop, playing amongst the wares and frequently coming home with a new toy he father happened to procure for him amongst his items for sale. Belle hoped that dear boy would pop by after pre-school. She hadn’t seen him in a while since her last sitting job for the Gold’s weeks ago.

            “Belle,” she heard Gold call her.

            Belle put down the glass mobile of blue unicorns that had just arrived on the counter and dusted her hands before walking to the backroom. “Yes, Mr. Gold?”

            “This book just came in.” He held up a rectangular packaged wrapped in brown paper. “A customer had it rebound. Please take it to them right away.”

            It was almost time for her lunch break and Belle didn’t relish the idea of running around Storybrooke in the August heat. Still, she couldn’t help but be curious as to who in town had a book be restored. She was one of the few who haunted the local library.

            She took the book and headed back towards the front of the shop. Belle was halfway to the door when she glanced down at the address printed on it.

            3449 Willow Lane

            That was her address, well the one she shared with Granny and Ruby, and she knew neither one of them had every cared for books. Then she saw written above the address was the name Isabelle French.

            “Open it,” she heard Gold saw softly from behind her.

            Belle’s heart was hammering against her ribs as her fingers peeled away the brown paper and tape. She gasped at what she found.

            It was a leather-bound copy of _Her Handsome Hero_. The pages were yellowed, but still clear and legible. The letters on the cover were engraved with gold. There were even beautifully colored illustrations inside. It was the same book her mother had read to her when she was little, the one she’d carried around with her until it was torn into pieces and damaged beyond legibility.

            Tears blurred her vision as she turned around to look at her boss. “H-how?” she asked.

            “It took some digging,” he said, “but I finally found a first edition in reparable condition. I meant to give it to you for your birthday last week, but the repairs took longer than I expected.”

            “I thought you had forgotten,” she whispered.

            “Of course not,” he said, “I just fell a little behind in my plans.”

            Tears rolled down her cheeks as she hugged the beautiful book tightly to her chest. “Thank you,” she said. She set it down on the counter just long enough so she could wrap her arms around the greatest boss in the world.

            He seemed a bit surprised by her reaction, but warmly hugged her back. Belle let herself relish this moment, trying to ignore the way her blood heated and pulsed through her veins. “It’s the best present I’ve ever gotten,” she said.

            “I’m glad you enjoy it,” he told her, gently pulling away from her. “Now you go enjoy your lunch.”

            “Now I have something else to read,” she said, “Ruby will like this too.”

            He let out a snort and shook his head. “I highly doubt that. She’s never seemed to be the literary type.”

            “She’ll still enjoy looking at it,” Belle said, smiling at him. “Thank you again.”

            “Seeing you love it so much is reward enough,” he told her.

            Belle smiled at him again while her heart leapt at the L word. She knew Ruby would scold her if she ever knew of this hopeless crush, but she still clutched the beloved book her chest and let her heart dance.

* * *

         Granny’s diner was the more popular setting for lunch in the small town of Storybrooke. However, Gold preferred Tony’s Italian restaurant due to its far superior lasagna as well as it’s quieter environment. Not to mention he had long suspected of Granny spitting in his food when he had to raise the rent on her inn slightly three months past. The waiter showed him to his usual table where Killian was already waiting for him.

            “Cal, there you are,” Killian said over his beer.

            “Sorry, I’m late. I was giving Belle her birthday present.”

            “Ah, how did that go?”

            “Great, she loved it. I assume she’s at Granny’s now telling Miss Lucas all about it.”

            Killian nodded. “You got her a book, right?”

            “A first edition of her favorite,” Gold told him.

            “Then I pity Miss Lucas.”

            Gold chuckled and took a sip of the wine Killian had thoughtfully ordered for him. “Are you taking Milah on another sailing lesson this afternoon?”

            “Yes, that was the plan.”

            “How are they going?”

            Killian smiled at him. “Fantastic. She’s a natural.”

            “I’m glad to hear it,” Gold said, “She’s always saying what a great time she has on your boat. I think these sailing lessons have really been good for us too.”

            “Really?” A smile curved Killian’s lips at the question.

            “Yes. I know she’s been missing New York, so these sailing lessons have given her something to do that she can enjoy.”

            “I’m more than happy to help her in that,” Killian said.

            “Thank you,” Gold told him, “I think that rough patch we went through is finally over. I knew things would change when we had Bae and moved here, but I think we’ve finally found our equilibrium again.”

            “That’s good.”

            The waiter brought them their usual lunch fare and they asked each other their usual questions about work. Killian’s retail brokerage was going well, but he far more enjoyed his time on his boat than in the office. Meanwhile, Gold was planning on a trip to an antique fair to see what wares they had for sale.

            “Sounds very boring,” Killian said with an exaggerated eye roll, making Gold chuckle. “Will you submitting your assistant to this torture?”

            “Belle enjoys these trips,” he said, “She often finds more books at discount prices.”

            Killian shook his head and took another long sip of beer. “Hard to believe a girl that pretty could also be such a bookworm.”

            “Don’t tell me you’re that shallow?”

            “Well you know me, I enjoy a hot body more than a high IQ when I’m looking for a date on Saturday night.”

            “I’ll be sure to mention that in my toast if you ever happen to get married.”

            Killian let out a laugh. “I highly doubt that will happen.”

            “The marriage or the toast?”

            “Both.” Gold tilted his wine glass at him in a silent salute. “Back to the subject of your assistant,” Killian said, “You said before you bought her a book?”

            “Yes, a first edition of her favorite, _Her Handsome Hero_.”

            “Sounds exciting,” he said dryly.

            “It’s sentimental,” Gold told him. “Her mother read it to her when she was little.”

            “That’s sweet,” Killian said with a shrug, “Pretty fancy for a birthday present.”

            “Well it was a bit late. Her birthday was last week, but the rebinding took longer than I anticipated.”

            Killian nodded, but tilted his head at him. “You had a book rebound for her? That’s kind of…well personal for someone who is just your assistant.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “Well I bought my secretary a box of chocolates for her birthday, not a kitten.”

            “Belle likes books,” Gold told him.

            “And Margie likes cats, but there are things that you buy your assistant and then there are things you buy to impress someone.”

            “What are you saying, Killian?” Gold asked.

            “Well…Belle is a very pretty girl,” he said, “And you appear to like her quite a bit.”

            “I do, but what…Oh God,” he groaned into his hands, “Are you thinking I’m sleeping with her?”

            “Well, it crossed my mind.”

            “No!” Gold snapped, “I’m married, Killian. I would never betray Milah like that.”

            “Okay, sorry, it’s just a little odd is all.”

            “Belle has been through a lot. She deserves something nice.”

            “Fair enough,” Killian said.

            Gold took another swallow of his wine, hoping the fine vintage would soothe him and put this all to rest.

            “But…no, forget it,” Killian said, waving his hand errantly.

            “No, go on ahead,” Gold told him.

            “Okay, you’ve had to have noticed that Belle is attractive.”

            “Even a blind man would notice that,” he replied.

            “And you’ve never once thought about it? Not even a fantasy?”

            Gold nearly choked on his wine as he drained the glass. Good God, how had their lunch turned into this? “I…well…I…”

            “Come on, man, you know I won’t tell Milah about this,” Killian said, “And it’s not like you did anything wrong. Every man in the world has his little fantasies.”

            Gold let out a sigh. “Fine, yes I’ve had…thoughts, but that’s all.”

            Killian let out a laugh. “Now you’re talking. So tell me about these thoughts?”

            “Not in a million years,” he said, glancing down at his watch, “Besides, I have to pick up Bae from preschool.”

            “All right, but don’t think that I’ll forget about this,” Killian said, “At last, Callum Gold has admitting to being a red blooded male! This deserves a toast.”

            “Have it for me,” Gold told him, “I’ll see you later, Killian.”

            “Keep enjoying those fantasies, mate,” Killian said with a wink while he finished his beer.

            It was an odd friendship they had. Killian was into wild pursuits, chasing anything in a skirt, and flashy cars and boats. Meanwhile, Gold preferred quieter evenings at home with a book or playing with Bae and his Legos. However, their friendship had been born from the sleepless nights of college and plundered along even after they moved into different fields. Besides, weren’t these sorts of peculiar relationships meant to endure anything?

            He left the restaurant and walked down the main street, his cane clicking along the ground as he went. It was an old injury he had, one he’s obtained from his rather less privileged youth when a knife got him in the leg and damaged the muscle. He’d learned to live with it and didn’t let the disability shatter his imposing aura. If anything, the cane reminded his fellow man that he had lived a tough life and had earned his way to the top.

            Gold only let his guard down around the people he cared about most. The number one person on that list was now zooming past the day care attendant, sliding through the barely open door, and hurtling himself into his father’s waiting arms.

            “Papa! Papa!” Baelfire Gold shouted, his little arms holding onto him tightly, “I made a cup today!”

            “You did? I bet it’s beautiful,” Gold said, gently disentangling himself from the four-year-old before smoothing back his riotous hair, “Go get your things and then you can play at the shop for a while. How does that sound?”

            “Will Belle read to me?” Bae asked.

            “I’m sure she will.”

            “Yeah! I want her to read the Rumple book again.”

            Gold wasn’t entirely sure what the “Rumple book” was, but as long as Bae enjoyed it then it was worth its weight in gold. Bae ran back for his Spider-Man backpack and took a painted mug from his instructor.

            “Here, Papa,” Bae said, pressing the multi-colored nonsensical mug into his hands, “You can drink coffee with it in the mornings.”

            “I will use it everyday,” Gold promised his boy.

            They stopped at the ice cream shop so he could get his son a cone before walking back to his shop. Belle was already perched in a corner with her nose buried in her belated birthday present. She smiled when she heard Bae call her name and carefully put her book out of reach of his sticky fingers.

            Bae showed her his mug and started chattering on about everything he had done with his friends at preschool. He let Belle settle his boy down with a juice box and found what must have been the “Rumple book” after Bae asked for it five times. Gold took up to repairing an old clock while he listened as Belle told the story. It turned out to be a rather peculiar adaptation of Rumplestiltskin that took pity on the odd imp and even had him falling in love with a beautiful maiden. The story was rather interesting, so much so that he found himself listening to Belle’s voice as she imitated the various characters than doing the task he’d set before him.

            Once the book was finished, Bae entertained himself with some of the toys his father kept for him there. Belle and Gold went over the day’s accounts and dealt with the customers that wandered in.

            They closed up shop at six o’clock. Belle gave Bae a kiss on his head in parting and thanked Gold again for her book before heading in the direction of Granny’s inn. Gold loaded Bae up into his car seat and drove him home. Milah’s car was already in the driveway as was Killian’s motorcycle. The latter surprised Gold, leaving a puzzled expression on his face as the two of them walked into the house. Milah and Killian were in the living room, sitting together on the sofa and speaking to each other in whispers.

            “Mama!” Bae called out cheerfully and ran to give her a hug, “You’re home! Hi, Uncle Killy.”

            “Hello, buccaneer,” Killian said, holding out a hand so Bae could slap at it with his own palm.

            “What on earth are you doing here, Killian?” Gold asked.

            “Is that anyway to say hello, mate? Are you that sick of me?”

            “Of course not, this is just unexpected.” Gold walked over and kissed his wife on the cheek. “Hello, Milah. How were your sailing lessons?”

            “As exciting as always,” she said with a smile towards Killian, “I have an excellent tutor.”

            “The two of you will have to take Bae out sometime. I know I would spend more time leaning over the rail, myself.”

            Killian let out a laugh. “A shame, you’re missing out on the greatest sport on earth.”

            “I’ll keep my feet on land, thank you,” Gold told him. “Will you be staying for dinner?”

            “No, thank you, I have other plans. I only came with Milah so the three of us can discuss something.”

            “Sounds important,” Gold replied. Bae had wandered over to the other side of the room to pick up his tablet and start playing some of his favorite games.

            Milah smiled at her husband. “Darling, I have a marvelous idea on how we can spend our anniversary this weekend.”

            “Do you?” He asked, raising one brow in curiosity. He had thought they may just enjoy a quiet evening at home like they had the previous year.

            “Killian knows of a wonderful cabin in the park,” she said, “I thought it would be nice if you and I spend the weekend there, just the two of us.”

            “What about Bae?” Gold asked her.

            “That’s why I’m here,” Killian stepped up to say, “Milah has bribed me with a bottle of my favorite brandy to babysit him for this weekend.” He grinned at him and added, “I promise to keep the bottle at home while I do so.”

            Gold let out a snort of amusement and shook his head. “You sure you can trust this scoundrel, Milah?”

            Milah sidled over to him and wrapped her arms around her neck. “It will be fun,” she promised her husband, “There will be wine and I promise to pack something extra special for you,” she said with a wink.

            It had been a very long time since the two of them had taken a vacation alone, not since Bae was born. A county getaway was not really Milah’s style, but after their little rough patch, she had been trying to do things differently. How could he say no to that?

            “Well you’ve certainly twisted my arm enough,” he told her, leaning over to give her a quick kiss. “I’ll be sure to pack my things and leave some instructions for Belle this weekend.” He looked over at his friend. “I’ll leave you strict instructions for Bae as well. If you do anything out of turn, I’ll keelhaul you.”

            Milah let out a cheerful laugh while Killian gave him a mocking glare. “Fat chance you’ll do that without a load of Dramamine first.”

            Gold chuckled and then looked over at his son. “Bae, how would you like to play with Uncle Killian this weekend while your mama and I are away?”

            “Yeah!” Bae cried out in delight, “Uncle Killy can play pirate ship with me.”

            “It’s settled then.” Gold kissed his wife again, “I’ll look forward to it.”

            “So will I,” Milah said, “I have a wonderful surprise waiting for you.”

            “I can’t wait to see it.”

            She smiled at him and wrapped him into a warm hug. Gold couldn’t help but feel marvelously happy. He’d never thought he’d be so lucky to have such a wonderful wife and darling boy. Nothing could get better than this.

* * *

 

            The drive to the cabin wasn’t terribly long, but Gold did quickly see how remote it was. The trees stretch endlessly on either side of the road. He held Milah’s hand as they drove up. He’d worried they’d lost this sort of intimacy forever months ago, but they’d found it again. Yes, this was an anniversary worth celebrating, even if it was only year seven.

            The cabin proved to be clean and comfortable, if a bit outdated. That was all right. They didn’t intend to do a lot of cooking there anyways. They brought their bags inside and started settling in. Milah banished him from their bedroom with a wink, so he went downstairs and opened a bottle of wine and put out some cheese and crackers she’d brought with them, but he doubted they would eat very much.

            He was stoking the fire when he heard his wife clear her throat. He turned and his breath left him in one great gust. She was wearing a black negligee with red lace accents. A black silk robe covered her shoulders and arms, but was open so he could see how her beautiful body was barely concealed.

            “Glad to know I can still surprise you,” she said.

            “Yes,” he told her, “You can.”

            Milah walked over to where the wine bottle was and began pouring two glasses. “Make sure the fire is going good. Killian said there is no heat in this place. Not to mention, I’ve always wanted to make love in front of the fire.”

            Gold made sure to put another log on just for that wicked promise while she finished with the wine. Milah handed him his glass and then held up her own as a toast. “To us,” she said, “May we always be this happy.”

            “I’ll drink to that,” he said, clinking his glass to hers and then taking a hearty swallow.

            “Finish your wine,” Milah said, “Then you can enjoy the rest of your anniversary present.”

            “I’m looking forward to it.” He eagerly sipped at his wine, draining the glass, before setting it aside and taking his wife into his arms.

_OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO_

            Gold woke up in his cold bed hours later. Milah wasn’t beside him like she had when he’d fallen asleep. He wondered over that for a moment before deciding she must have gotten hungry and wandered downstairs. He took his robe up from his suitcase and draped it around his shoulders to ward off the chill.

            “Milah?” he called out for his wife as he went down the creaky stairs.

            The wind was blowing hard and he could hear some sort of banging. He looked over and saw the door was wide open. “Milah? Where are you?” he called out again. He hurried towards the living room, but felt his feet slip out from under him.

            Gold fell into something cool and slightly sticky. He couldn’t see it very well in the dark, but the coppery smell left a sick feeling in his stomach. He gingerly climbed back to his feet, wincing as pain shot through his bad leg. He limped to the wall and fumbled around until he found a light switch. The harsh bulbs confirmed his worst fear.

            Blood.

 


	2. A Matter of Justice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gold struggles to get answers about what happened to Milah, but is surprised when he is arrested for her murder and by just how strong a case the prosecution has against him.

            “Nothing? What do you mean, nothing?” Gold couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It had been two weeks since Milah had disappeared. By now they should have had some inkling about what had happened. A ransom note, a fingernail, a bit of hair, something of substantial. However, the Maine State Bureau of Investigation was stalled. The sheriff had called in for aid once he’d realized they didn’t have the resources to find Milah on their own. Now Gold was wondering if he should have phoned the FBI instead.

            “We have nothing,” Agent Walker said, “No leads, nothing beyond the fact that you were found covered in your wife’s blood.”

            “What about the drifter that was seen in the area?”

            “I’m afraid we simply don’t have any solid witnesses to identify this drifter.”

            “You have no suspects at all?”

            “None that we can share.”

            Gold felt like he was beating his fists against a brick wall backed by titanium. He was getting nothing out of the investigators. They had been all over the town, asking everyone he knew about his marriage, Milah, and anything else that popped into their minds. They’d combed through his finances, his businesses, leaving no stone of his life unturned. Try as he might, he couldn’t shield Bae from the way the world had unraveled. As hard as it was not knowing where Milah was or if she was still alive, the hardest part was every night when Bae would ask, “When is mama coming home?”

            Killian had come over every night to pour him a drink and talk to him. Belle was also a constant presence, often helping with Bae and around the house. He didn’t know what he would do without both of them. As solid as they were, they couldn’t give him any answers as to what had happened to his wife. Only the police could do that and they were locked down more than Fort Knox.

            “I’m sure they have something,” Killian said over scotch. Bae was asleep, but Gold kept one ear trained upstairs in case he had another nightmare. “You know cops, they keep to themselves.”

            “I’m not asking for every detail on the cast, but I just want to know if they’ve made progress.”

            “What have they told you?”

            “Nothing. They won’t even say if they have a suspect.”

            Killian nodded slowly and took a sip. “Did they say they have no suspects?”

            “None that they could share.”

            “Well then it sounds like they have someone in mind.”

            Callum knew Killian was trying to comfort him, but something about those words had his gut twisting into a knot. “They won’t tell me,” he said at last, “They have something, but they are hiding it from me.”

            “Why do you think that is?”

            Gold looked down at his barely touched drink. “I wish I knew.”

            The sick feeling didn’t go away. He tried to go back to work, but he found himself looking at the clock and counting the hours to…something. When the bell rang above his shop’s door and he saw the investigators shuffle in, he knew the countdown was over. Belle stared at the men, but they barely looked at her.

            “Callum Gold,” Agent Walker said, “You are under arrest for the murder of your wife, Milah.”

            His jaw dropped and he felt his heart sink down to his shoes. Belle gasped out “What? No! This isn’t right!”

            He couldn’t say anything. He barely heard as they read him his rights, just nodding once they finally asked him if they understood them. He felt the cold steel slip around his wrists, then painful click as they locked in place. As they led him out of his store, he realized he should have seen this coming, but he still couldn’t believe that this was truly happening.

* * *

            Overnight, the town of Storybrooke, Maine became the center of attention throughout the country. Journalists, bloggists, and crime chasers from all corners of the United States attacked the mostly forgotten town. Granny’s Inn was at full capacity. Trailers lined the parks and streets. Reporters tracked down passerby to grill them all they knew about the victim and the killer.

            Gold did manage to post bail, but he found himself trapped in his home. The press had camped out on his front lawn not to mention the dozen or so people carrying signs like “Wife Beaters Must Die!” and “Fry Killer!” Apparently the notion of “innocent until proven guilty” was uncool at the moment.

            He’d hired his old friend and brilliant attorney Mallory Ficente to represent him. The media had speculated whether or not he would defend himself since he was also a lawyer. As entertaining as that notion was, any lawyer would say how foolish it was to try and represent yourself, especially for a charge of murder.

            Belle and Killian were around constantly, doing everything they could to try and keep Bae occupied during the times Gold was with Mal preparing his case. Despite there best efforts, the boy was well aware that things were not the same. Bae had taken to sleeping with his father every night and usually watched cartoons quietly than played with his toys. For that alone, he would never forgive the investigators for doing this to his son.

            Mal maintained their best defense was the fact that he had no motive to kill Milah. “You had a good life insurance policy on her,” she admitted, “but it’s not an exorbitant amount, and the fact that you have far more lucrative assets makes this look weak. Why kill your wife when you’re better off as you are?”

            “Aside from the fact that I’m innocent you mean,” he groused, “isn’t that better than not having a motive.”

            “Come on, Cal, I’m just laying out their case for us. This lack of motive will hurt them in the end. Not to mention, your limp.”

            “What about my limp?”

            “Well it’s pretty hard to carry a dead body when you need a cane,” she said.

            “I don’t have any experience in carrying a dead body, so I’ll take your word for it.”

            Mal only grinned and took another sip of her scotch. “I’m telling you, the judge will throw this whole thing out in a week.”

            A week later and the trial was right on schedule, despite Mal’s insistence it would all be over soon. He was sick to his stomach the entire time, unable to eat a bite, barely able to swallow water. He was never a heavy man, but now he was downright sickly.

            Opening statements were like the first shots in a war. Prosecutor George Spencer spoke of how they had witnesses to account over the state of his marriage, forensic evidence that proved Milah was dead, and they would explain how the crime occurred and produce a motive for why he supposedly killed his wife.

            Mal countered that by insisting they would prove that the marriage was good, that he had no conceivable reason to kill his wife, and provide witnesses to vouch for his character. She was a brilliant speaker, but right away he saw troubled waters ahead.

            Spencer put forth a forensic expert to discuss the blood found in the home. “All of it belonged to Milah Gold,” the scientist said.

            “How much blood was lost?”

            “It’s hard to say, but a very significant amount.”

            “Could a person have survived losing so much blood?”

            “Absolutely not.”

            None of this was new. Callum had accepted weeks ago that Milah was dead. He’d had the conversation with Bae, tearfully explaining that his mother was no longer with them. Still, he fought back tears at their words. Sadly, it didn’t end there.

            Spencer put on the men who investigated the case. They explained their method of chasing leads, how dogs had led them to the river where the presume Milah’s body was dumped. “Did you find anything else on your way to the river?”

            “Blood.”

            “Did you identify whose blood it was?”

            “Objection!” Mal cried out, “He is an investigator, not a DNA expert.”

            “Sustained.”

            It was a weak victory, but one that they took gratefully. Still what he said next was even worse.

            “Did you notice anything else while you searched the area?”

            “Yes, tire tracks.”

            “What sort of tracks? A car?”

            “No, smaller than that. Our techs determined they were likely from a wagon.”

            The knot in Gold’s gut tightened even more. Already he was thinking about the old wagon he’d kept in the shed. It was easier for him to use than a wheelbarrow when he was cleaning out the cabin and working in the garden there.

            “Did you find a wagon on the premises?”

            “Yes. It was in the shed.”

            “The locked shed?”

            “Yes.”

            “Did your forensics try and match the treads to the wheels?”

            “Yes.”

            “And what did they conclude?”

            “It was a perfect match.”

            Mal cried out another objection, but Gold knew the damage was done. None of this made any sense. How could they have so much evidence on him if he was innocent? Wasn’t this system supposed to support an innocent man?

            The state then brought in their plan to assassinate his character. Gold was not stupid enough to think he hadn’t made any enemies in his life. He’d even prepped a list for Mal of the people he thought they would call. A few were lawyers from his old firm. Some were residents who hated the fact that they had defaulted on their loans and he’d collected their collateral.

            The one they put up there was not on his list. In fact, he’d forgotten all about Janice Gothel, having been out of her parties since he’d left New York. He watched as her heavily botoxed face barely moved when she smiled as she placed her hand on the Bible to take her oath. Of all of Milah’s friends, she was the one he’d been glad to see the last of.

            “Ms. Gothel, state for the record your relationship with the deceased.”

            “Oh Milah and I go way back,” she said, “We were sorority sisters and roommates. I was the maid of honor at her wedding.” She dabbed at her eye with a handkerchief, but Gold doubted her eyes were capable of producing tears anymore.

            “So it is safe to say you were close?”

            “Very close. Like sisters.”

            “Did Milah tell you much about her life?”

            “She told me everything.”

            “Including the details of her marriage?”

            “Of course,” Gothel said.

            “Was it a happy marriage?”

            “Objection!” Mal called out, “Your honor, I don’t believe gossip should be counted as evidence.”

            “Your honor, the witness has said that she and the deceased were close friends. I think any woman, including Ms. Ficente, would tell you how much they tell their close friends about their lives.”

            The courtroom let out a chuckle and the judge banged his gavel in disapproval. “Overruled, the witness may answer.”

            He was certain the smirk Gothel gave him wasn’t his imagination. “They had happy times,” she admitted, “But recently, Milah had confessed things had been rocky.”

            “Will you expand on that for the court?”

            “There move to Storybrooke caused some tension, a lot actually.”

            Gold couldn’t deny that. It had been a major adjustment for their family and their marriage. They had gone through a rocky patch where they had been silent to one another at best, or argued at worst. However, things had settled recently. The trip to the cabin had proved that. Surely Milah would have told her friend this.

            “What do you mean by tension?”

            “Arguments, really bad ones. Milah told me all about how he’d yell at her, tell her to get out and do something.”

            What? He hadn’t done that…well not exactly. She had told him she was bored, that Storybooke wasn’t nearly as exciting as New York. It had been an argument and he’d told her to find something to occupy her time. It was Killian who had suggested teaching her how to sail.

            “Did Milah tell you anything else?”

            “Yes, she said that once he nearly pushed her down the stairs.”

            There were many gasps in the courtroom, but Gold saw his vision go red. Milah couldn’t have phrased it like that. Gothel had to be lying. The whole thing had been an accident. His leg had been hurting worse and Milah had been helping him up the stairs. He nearly lost his footing and accidentally fell into her. She managed to grab the rail to keep from falling. That had been the end of it.

            “Can you tell me about your last conversation with her?”

            “Yes, Milah told me she was concerned about her marriage. She wondered if Callum was having an affair.”

            “Was he?”

            Gothel shrugged. “I honestly don’t know.”

            “Thank you. No further questions, your honor.” __

* * *

“The defense calls Miss Isabelle French to the stand.”

            The bailiff opened the door and Belle slipped into the overly crowded courtroom. She was wearing a dark blue coatdress with a gold belt and matching gold shoes. She always had wonderful taste in fashion, but it was strange seeing her now in this state. She looked older than her twenty-one years.

            She raised her right hand and gave her vow to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth before Mal asked her first question. “Now for the record, you work for Mr. Gold?”

            “Yes,” Belle answered, “I am his assistant at his antique and pawn shop.”

            “How long have you been working for him?”

            “Two years now.”

            “And how did you begin working for him?”

            “I’m a college student at Grimm State Community College,” Belle said. “I was dating a boy my father had set me up with. He wanted to marry me, but I said no. My father told me that I should drop out of school and marry him, as my ex wanted me to do. When I refused, he cut me off. Mr. Gold was collecting my father’s rent when he saw me taking my things. I told him my story and he was kind enough to offer me a job.”

            Belle looked over at him and gave him a small smile. He nodded back at her.

            “And how would you describe Mr. Gold as your boss?”

            “Wonderful,” she said, “He may have a rough exterior, but underneath that is a generous heart.”

            “And how is he as a father?”

            “He’s an incredible father,” Belle said, “I’ve had my own difficulties with my father, but Bae is Mr. Gold’s whole world. He’d do anything for him.”

            “And as a husband?”

            “He’s a good husband. He did everything he could to keep Milah happy. His family means everything to him.”

            “Do you believe Mr. Gold murdered his wife?”

            “Not for a second,” she said firmly, “He loved Milah and he loves Bae. He would never do anything to hurt his family.”

            “Thank you.” Mal looked up at the judge, “No further questions your honor.”

            Now it was Albert Spencer’s turn to question her. Gold didn’t like this, not one bit. He should have never let Belle go up there. She was too sweet for her own good, too insistent that she stand up for him. He shouldn’t have gotten her involved in this mess.

            “Miss French,” Spencer began, “would you say you and Mr. Gold are close?”

            “Yes, I suppose we are,” she replied calmly. Meanwhile warning sirens were going off in his mind.

            “How would you describe your relationship with him?”

            “I don’t know,” she said, “He’s…he’s my dearest friend.”

            “Do you trust him?”

            “Of course I do.”

            “So how close would you say you are?”

            Belle frowned at him. “I don’t know how to answer that.”

            “Are you afraid to answer that?”

            “Objection, your honor,” Mal said from her seat, “Miss French is not on trial here.”

            “Sustained,” the judge said.

            “I’ll rephrase my original question,” Spencer said, completely unruffled, “Would you say your relationship with Mr. Gold is closer than the average employer to employee relationship?”

            “I suppose it is,” she said.

            “What about your relationship with his son, Baeden? Are you close with him?”

            “Yes,” she said with a smile, “Bae is such a sweet child. I often babysit him.”

            “What about Milah? Were you close with her?”

            “I…not close really,” she said.

            “But you are so close to the rest of the Gold family. Why not her?”

            “We never had a lot in common,” Belle said.

            “Yet you have more in common with a four year old?”

            “Objection, beyond the scope,” Mal argued from her side.

            “Withdrawn,” Spencer said, but a slight smile curved his lips. “Would you consider Mr. Gold a violent person?”

            “Absolutely not,” she said.

            “Do you remember what happened on April 5th two years ago?”

            Gold felt his stomach drop at the date. Belle blinked, frowning slightly, before recognition dawned on her. “Yes,” she said, “My ex, Gregory, tried to convince me to change my mind. He was harassing me at work. Thankfully, Mr. Gold convinced him to leave.”

            “And how did Mr. Gold convince your ex-boyfriend to leave?”

            Belle shifted in her chair, darting a glance at her boss. He just shut his eyes. There was no way getting out of this trap.

            “He shoved him out,” Belle said.

            “How did he shove him?”

            “With his cane.”

            “He hit him,” Spencer said.

            “Not very hard,” she said, “And that was only when he grabbed me. After that he just pushed him out the door.”

            “But he did react with violence,” Spencer said.

            “Yes, but it wasn’t—.”

            “Miss French, you said before you were close to him, did you not?”

            “Yes,” she said, “But the last question, I was going to say—.”

            “Do you have feelings for him?”

            Every soul in the courtroom froze. Gold couldn’t even breathe. Belle gaped at the attorney. “Wh-what?”

            “Do you have feelings for Mr. Gold?”

            She stared at him, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Dear God, this was all his fault. He shouldn’t have let her do this. How could she answer that? A small voice in his brain wondered just what her answer would be.

            He would never know.

            “Objection, your honor!” Mal shouted with fury, “Miss French is not on trial here and her love-life is not evidence in this case.”

            “The state speculates that there could have been an affair between the defendant and the witness,” Spencer said.

            “Speculates,” Mal spat out, “Where is the evidence? Is that how the state plans to win this case, with gut feelings?”

            “Sustained,” the judge said, “The question will be stricken from the record and counsel will be reminded that any claims must be backed up with evidence. You may continue your questioning.”

            “I have no more questions, your honor.” Despite his reprimand, Spencer walked back his chair with a smile on his face.

            Mal gave him a poisonous look as she marched over to Belle. “For the record, were you having an affair with Mr. Gold?”

            “Of course not,” she said.

            “Do you recall him ever saying he was cheating on his wife or he wanted to be with another woman?”

            “No. He never said anything like that and I don’t believe he would.”

            “Were any charges filed against Mr. Gold in relation to the incident with your ex-boyfriend?”

            “No,” Belle said, “Gregory was harassing me. I had even considered filing a restraining order. Once Mr. Gold told him to leave me alone, he did.”

            “So you feel Mr. Gold protected you from a possible threat?”

            “Yes,” Belle said.

            “Thank you, Miss French,” Mal said, “No more questions, your honor.”

            “You may step down, Miss French.”

            She let out a deep breath and nodded, almost tripping as she stepped away from the bench. Belle looked over at Gold again and gave him a shaky smile. He returned it, but dropped his head to the desk once she was gone. He didn’t have to be a lawyer to know this trial was not going in his favor, not by a long shot.

* * *

            Killian was his last hope. As his oldest friend, it was up to him to seal in the minds of the jury the reasonable doubt that could save him from a prison sentence. Mal was doing her damnedest to assure him that they still had a strong chance, but he knew they were hanging by a thread.

            However, you couldn’t tell that the weight of his life rested on Killian’s shoulders by the look of his friend. The handsome man smiled as he put his hand on the Bible and swore to be honest, giving the head of the jury a wink as he finished. Well, maybe he could flirt the jury into convincing them that Gold was innocent.

            “Mr. Jones,” Mal began, “Tell us how long you have known Callum Gold?”

            “Oh we go back to law school together,” Killian said, “Cal was serious about his intentions in being a lawyer. Me, I had fancy dreams of being some hotshot like Perry Mason, but I quickly realized the whole thing wasn’t for me. So I skipped out, but we kept in touch. I was even the best man at his wedding.”

            “So I take it you are close?”

            “Callum is my best friend.”

            “And how would you describe his marriage with Milah?”

            Killian shrugged. “No marriage is perfect, or so I hear anyways. I’m perpetually single myself.” The earned a chuckle from the gallery. “They had their problems, but Callum would have done anything for her. Milah and Bae are everything to him.”

            “Do you believe he murdered his wife?”

            “Hell no. I am certain of that.”

            Mal smiled at him and nodded. “Thank you. Counsel, your witness.”

            Spencer buttoned up his jacket as he left his chair and coolly made his way to the bench. “You said the defendant is your best friend, how often did you guys speak?”

            “Often enough before,” Killian said, “but after he moved to Storybrooke, we saw each other nearly every day for lunch.”

            “He told you all about his life?”

            “Yes.”

            “His marriage?”

            “Of course.”

            “Did he mention any problems?”

            “Some,” Killian confessed, “but he was trying to work them out with Milah.”

            “But he shared with you things he wouldn’t tell anyone else?”

            “Well I never asked him that, but we are friends. You normally tell your friends things you keep private between each other.”

            “I understand he gave his employee a present, is that true?”

            Gold felt his blood run cold. To his credit, Killian only blinked at the question. “Yes, it was her birthday.”

            “A rare book is a rather pricey birthday present, don’t you agree?”

            “Objection,” Mal called.

            “Withdrawn,” Spencer said immediately, “How close is your friend to Miss French?”

            “If you’re asking me if he was having an affair with her, the answer is no.”

            “You’re certain of that?”

            “Yes I am,” Killian said.

            “But did he ever say he’d thought about it?”

            Killian flinched, his gaze flickering over to his friend. Gold just shut his eyes and bowed his head. “Well…yes,” Killian said, “but it wasn’t…”

            “Thank you, no more questions, your honor.”

            Gold didn’t have to look at Mal to know just what had happened. Spencer had just blown the final hole in their sinking ship. There was no bailing out of this now.

* * *

 

            Court rested for the day, but closing arguments would begin bright and early in the morning. However, Gold knew there was no time for rest. This was his last night of freedom and, he had work to do. He’d drawn up the papers weeks ago, now it was just a matter of crossing the t’s and dotting the i’s.

            It was nearing midnight when he called Killian over. He was confined to his house until the verdict was given, but there were no doubts now what that would be. His friend could barely look him in the eye when he arrived.

            “Killian…”

            “I’m sorry, Callum,” he said quietly, “I didn’t…I wasn’t…shit…”

            “You were telling the truth, like you swore to do,” he told him, “None of this is your fault. They’ve painted a pretty damnable case against me. If I didn’t know I was innocent, I’d have thought I was guilty as sin.”

            He sighed and reached over for the papers. “That’s why I asked you to come here. We both know what’s going to happen tomorrow.”

            “You don’t…”

            “I do know and I’m not going to pretend otherwise. I got this ready just in case, and now it’s time to use it.” He handed Killian the paper.

            He scanned the document for a minute with a puzzled brow. “What is this?”

            “I’m giving guardianship of Bae over to you.” Killian’s mouth dropped to his chest, but Gold continued. “I’m signing over all my possessions and accounts to him, but he won’t have access of it until he turns eighteen, so you’ll have to manage it all for him. Also, the insurance policy on Milah will be turned over to him. You won’t have to worry about anything.”

            “You…you shouldn’t be doing this,” Killian said, “I mean, I’m not his family.”

            “Milah’s parents are dead and I’m sure as hell not going to let him go to my dad. Belle is too young to be saddled with a child. You’re the only person I have left in the world that I trust with my son.”

            “But…”

            Gold shook his head and held up a pen. “Please, Killian, just sign them.”

            Killian took the pen and smoothed the paper out onto the table before adding his name to the bottom, right below Gold’s. “I hate this, Callum.”

            “You’re not alone, but thank you.”

            “Is there anything I can do? Get you drunk?”

            Gold chuckled a little. “No, but…could you bring him by? Not every week, maybe every two weeks or once a month? I just don’t want him to think I abandoned him.”

            “If course. I’d bring him by every day if you asked.”

            “Thank you for that,” Gold said, “You—you’ve been a good friend, the best a man could ask for.”

            He was never much for hugging, but to hell with all of that. Killian didn’t hesitate to hug him, even patting him on the back. “Do you want me to stay and get drunk together?”

            “No, thank you, but now,” he said, “I just want to be with my boy.”

            Killian nodded. “Yeah, I figured you’d say that.” He swallowed hard and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

            “Goodbye, Killian.” It would be the last words he would say to his friend before they locked him away.

            Gold filed the papers away to give to Mal in the morning. It was done and there was some relief in that, but even more pain. He slowly walked through his house, the home he’d made with his wife. It was hard to believe that she would never return to this place, neither would he.

            He made his way upstairs to where his son lay sleeping. Bae was wrapped up in his Superman comforter, his Mickey Mouse toy tucked under his arm. Gold stretched out beside his son and pulled him into his chest. He breathed in his scent, savored the warmth of his breath on his skin. This was it, all he had left. Tomorrow he would be locked away from his boy. He didn’t dare waste any of these final moments on sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review and let me know what you think!
> 
> Next chapter: Gold endures prison and make a shocking discovery that changes everything he thought he knew.


	3. Down the Rabbit Hole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gold adapts to life in prison and reconnects with Belle. He also makes a very shocking discovery which shatters everything he thought he knew about his wife and best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo! I got this chapter written sooner than I thought. I hope you like it!

            The lights cut on a six o’clock, followed by the sounds of the guards ordering everyone to get out of bed, get dressed and be ready to head to the cafeteria. Gold had the bottom bunk on account of his knee so at least he had some reprieve from the harsh light. Still, it was a bit disorienting to be rudely awakened from sleep. It was his only escape from the nightmare he was now living in.

            His cellmate was already getting his clothes in order and had claimed first dibs on their shared toilet. Antonio Zosorino was his name, but everyone called him Zoso. Gold rarely spoke to the man and he blessedly received the same treatment. Zoso was older than him, with thinning white hair and a heavily lined face. Despite that, he moved like a man twenty years younger. Even better, he wasn’t plagued with a bum leg.

            Zoso quietly finished his ablutions and then let Gold have his turn. They both dressed and waited patiently for the guard to unlock their cellblock so they could get breakfast. The other prisoners weren’t nearly as silent as they were. Shouts were already echoing down the corridor. Someone accused another if stealing his socks. If this continued, the guards were going to have to interfere and God only knew when they would be let out for their meal then.

            Thankfully, things quieted soon enough and they were released. Gold had been told by Jefferson, another resident on their block, to get in the back of the line, never skip ahead or he faced a beating. As one of the new guys, he was at the lowest end of the hierarchy. That meant he was not allowed to take the last carton of orange juice, and he couldn’t complain if they were out of sausage. He didn’t say a word as he got behind Jefferson and Whale, the only two people who not only acknowledged his existence, but were also friendly to him. He’d only been in prison for three weeks, so he couldn’t call them friends really, at least not yet. It was hard to imagine that he was contemplating being friends with a drug dealer and a man who’d sold organs on the black market, but this was his life now.

            “Think they’ll have bacon today?” Jefferson asked.

            Whale shook his head, “Nah, that’s only on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Today is oatmeal and toast.”

            “They better not run out of grape jelly.”

            Gold didn’t really care what was on the menu. His eyes kept drifting to the clock on the wall, counting down the hours until ten. Killian had promised to bring Bae to see him today. It has been difficult, finally deciding to let Bae see him in this place, but the longing to see his son was worse than the shame of knowing his son would remember him like this. However, Bae had begged to see him, terrified that he would never get to see him again like his mother, so it was better this way.

            There was a bit of commotion up at the start of the line. Apparently, there was only one piece of sausage left and two other men were arguing over who had dibs on it. There was probably more being made in the kitchen, but considering the location, this was no guarantee. Jefferson had warned Gold that several years ago there had been a riot over cookies so it was best to keep a careful eye on these things in case one had to duck away from a flying tray or wayward fist.

            Gold had pretty much decided lukewarm oatmeal wasn’t worth any broken bones, even if he was rather hungry, when both prisoners suddenly stopped. He watched as Zoso broke through the line, snatched up the last sausage and took a bite out of it in front of the two squabbling prisoners. He continued to chew, staring at them both. Neither man blinked. At last, they moved on with their trays, casting glances at Zoso who continued to stare them down. It was ludicrous that a man twice their age could intimidate two burly, tattooed men, but somehow this was the case.

            He wondered over this, sneaking glances at Zoso who had taken his breakfast and sat down at the far end of one of the tables, completely alone. Gold took his food and was waved over to where Jefferson and Whale were. Jefferson was mixing his jelly with his oatmeal until it was a shade of lavender then spooning it onto his dry toast. “Don’t knock it till you try it,” he said when he caught Whale’s quizzical look.

            “I’m good, thanks.”

            “It’s not like we get sugar or cinnamon here anyways. I always hated oatmeal as a kid. Always reminded me of vomit.”

            “Now it looks like grape vomit,” Whale said, wrinkling his nose, “Very appetizing.”

            Gold hardly paid attention to their asinine conversation. He kept glancing over at Zoso who was quietly eating his oatmeal, completely alone. He used to think he was a tough-as-nails kind of person. Certainly he’d developed a reputation for being a hard on his tenants when they were late with their rent, but he was a kitten compared to many of the men in this place. Yet all of them had bowed to Zoso. Was he some sort of serial killer he’d never heard of? Why were they afraid of him?

            He was wondering if he should be concerned about sleeping below this man, when Jefferson apparently noticed his gaze. “Don’t stare too long or you may not have eyes.”

            That snapped his attention back to his breakfast. “Is he really that dangerous?”

            Jefferson shrugged. “Usually he keeps to himself, but if you trip that wire…” he smacked his hand down on the table for emphasis. “Kaboom!”

            Gold looked over at Zoso again, trying to be stealthy about it. It was still hard to be wary about a man older than him just quietly eating his oatmeal and sausage. “What is in for?”

            Everyone had a story here. He was asked what he had done when he had first arrived. He wasn’t the only one saying he was innocent, so no one was really surprised that he said he had be wrongly convicted of murdering his wife, but he doubted they believed him. Some challenged him, most just said nothing.

            “He’s got the biggest rap sheet here,” Jefferson said, “Guy has been convicted of killing nine people, probably more.”

            Gold tried to hide his surprise as best he could, but Jefferson still grinned at him so he knew he had failed. Whale had obviously heard of this before because he merely shrugged. “I head it was closer to twenty.”

            “Just who is he exactly?” Gold asked. Now he was seriously wondering if he was bunking with Ted Bundy.

            “He was a hitman for the mob,” Jefferson said, “Worked for the Falconi family in Boston. Rumor is his grandfather was the big one himself, Capone.”

            The latter Gold wasn’t sure on; since likely someone would also say his uncle was Vito Corleone, but the former actually made a lot of sense. There was a hierarchy in prison, and someone with a large body count and ties to the mob would certainly be on the top of that pyramid.

            Gold went back to his breakfast, silently contemplating if he should be concerned that he had to share a cell with this man. Still, if Zoso wanted to kill him, he doubted there was anything he could do to stop him. Best to stay on his good side then.

* * *

            There was some shame in knowing that he would only be able to glimpse his son through a glass wall, but Gold told himself he didn’t care. He hadn’t seen Bae in weeks. If this were the only way he could visit with his son, then he would do it.

            The guard escorted him to the visiting station. Killian was already there on the side for those who were free with Bae perched on his lap. His son eagerly scrambled for the little black phone, speaking into it before Gold could even lift his own to his ear.

            “Papa, I miss you!”

            “I miss you too, Bae,” he said.

            “When are you coming home?”

            Gold looked over and Killian who gave him a sad shrug. So he did the only thing he could do for his son: lied. “Soon, very soon, how are things in pre-school?”

            “Good. I learned French!”

            Gold smiled at him. “French? Wow, what did you learn in French?”

            “A song. Fray-er Jack.”

            Gold chuckled a little. “Can you sing it to me?”

            Bae nodded and began to sing “Fray-er Jack, Fray-er Jack/ Dom may voo, dom may voo.” He pressed his little hand up to the glass as he sang, reaching for his father. Gold blinked through tears, adding his voice to the song and placing his palm over Bae’s. He could almost feel the warmth of his son’s hand through the thick glass.

            “That was beautiful, Bae,” he said when he had finished.

            “Belle likes it too. She’s working at the library now.”

            A rush of relief filled him at that bit of news. He had been wondering what had happened to Belle after he was convicted. Aside from himself and Bae, Belle was another victim who had endured so much because of all of this. The media had labeled her the “other woman”, with much speculation that she had been involved in the murder. Of course, this was absolutely ridiculous, but he knew that since he was gone now everyone would be talking about her.

            He smiled a little though at the thought of Belle being surrounded by all of her beloved books. “I’m sure she’s happier there than she was at my shop.”

            “She read me a book,” Bae said gleefully, “ _Horton Hears a Who._ ”

            “Did you like it?”

            “Uh huh. She promised to read me another one when we go back.”

            “That sounds wonderful.” The clock was ticking away, betraying the fact that their time was quickly running out. No father should have to limit his time with his son to just four hours a month.

            “Bae, can you hand the phone over to Uncle Killian now? I want to talk to him a bit.”

            “Okay, Papa.” Bae dutifully passed the black phone over to Killian. His friend smiled at him and said, “Hey, you doing okay?”

            “I’m fine, it’s an adjustment, but it’s not terrible.” It wasn’t a completely lie. Being away from Bae was torture, and he hated the fact that he was no longer free to do what he wanted, but he kept to himself mostly so the rest of the prisoners left him alone. Besides, Jefferson and Whale were decent guys. Granted, it wasn’t a picnic knowing he was sharing a bunk with a hitman.

            “I’m glad you’re doing okay then, I worry about you,” Killian said.

            “I’ll be fine. Is Bae doing all right?”

            Killian shrugged, “Like you said, it’s an adjustment. He misses you and his mom like hell, but he’s a trooper.”

            “That’s good. Is the town treating him okay?”

            Killian nodded. “They haven’t bothered us. Belle on the other hand…Granny and Ruby are sticking by her, but a lot of the others have sort of ostracized her.”

            He knew Ruby and her grandmother would have Belle’s back, probably Leroy too, but the rest…? Certainly Mother Superior and her nuns would be in full swing condemning her for her supposed sins, just as they did everyone else. Ms. Ginger and her gossip gang would be spreading rumors all over the place, no doubt spinning this whole thing into a clandestine affair that culminated in Milah’s death.

            “Hopefully that will die down soon,” he said, though he didn’t believe his own lies. Maybe she could save up enough and move to another town where no one would know her. Oh God, her college. He had been helping her out financially with that. He knew Belle would love her job at the library, but it wouldn’t pay as well as he had. She’d have to take out loans if she didn’t drop out entirely. The thought of that twisted his gut painfully. She deserved so much more in life than that.

            The treacherous clock told him their time was almost up. Gold glared at it, willing time to stop entirely. “I suppose it’s almost time for you to go. Thank you, Killian, I can never repay everything you have done for me.”

            “Hey, there’s nothing to repay,” Killian said, “We’re practically family. You’d do the same for me.”

            Gold nodded, knowing it was true but wishing that none of this had happened. “Can I say goodbye to, Bae?”

            “Yeah, of course.” Killian handed the phone back to Bae.

            “Papa?” Bae asked, “Do you have to go back to the playroom now?”

            Ah, so that was what Killian called it. He nodded solemnly. “I’m afraid so, you be good for Uncle Killian now. You’ll be back to see me very soon, I promise.”

            “Can’t I go with you?”

            “I’m afraid it’s only for grown ups. But hopefully I’ll be out of here soon and I can be with you all the time.”

            “Okay,” he said quietly, clearly not happy with the notion of having to wait, “Bye bye, Papa.”

            Gold couldn’t blink back his tears. “Goodbye, son.”

* * *

            It was nearly lunchtime, and the library was completely empty save for Belle. She didn’t mind the solitude, but this hour was always a little painful for her on Wednesdays. Mr. Gold had always bought her lunch on this day, usually from Granny’s. He always got her favorite, a cheeseburger with fries and extra pickles with a large iced tea. They would sit in the back of his shop, eating and talking about books, sometimes even arguing over which authors were superior (Jane Austen would always best Sir Walter Scott and nothing would change her mind on that). Mr. Collins enjoyed books too, but he was too mild-mannered to ever carry a lively conversation.

            In these silences, her mind would more often than not wander to Callum and what he must be enduring in that prison. Did he have a library? Could he read books? Was he all right?” She longed to talk to him again. When Bae said he was going to go visit him, Belle had almost asked to tagalong. Granny had talked her out of a visit. “Everyone is watching you right now,” she’d said, “Don’t add fuel to the fire or you’ll wind up with third degree burns.”

            But it felt so very wrong to sit here, listening to the clock tick on, knowing Callum was locked away for a crime she knew in her heart he didn’t commit. Did he ever think of her the way she thought of him? Surely his first thought had to be of Bae, of course, but…did he miss her?

            The silence was starting to suffocate her, cloying at her throat and pricking tears in her eyes. She had to speak to him, or at least let him know that she was still his friend. The notion now too strong to fight, Belle rummaged through the desk for a pad of paper and a pen. She couldn’t call him, couldn’t see him, but she could write to him. He would like that. He’d always hated phones, calling them a “bloody nuisance”. A letter would be more fitting.

            How to begin though? Dear Mr. Gold? Dearest friend? Nothing seemed right. Finally, she simply wrote, “Dear Callum,” and that felt like an okay place to start, though it fell short of what she truly felt.

            _I’m sorry it has taken me so long to write to you. I wanted to see you the day after the trial, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted me there. Granny and Ruby told me it was better to let you and the rest of the town adjust before I did anything._

_I am working at the library now. I remember when you offered to buy me the library once if I would deal with Ms. Ginger when she wanted to sell her collection of hatpins. She was so bitter when you told her that they were worth only fifty dollars all together. Those were good times._

Belle blinked back tears at the memory of them laughing in the back of the shop, mimicking her indignant shriek that she had not stumbled upon the metaphorical gold mine she’d been after.

            _I’m sorry, perhaps I shouldn’t bring up those times. I think of you quite often. I hope you are as well as you can be. Is there anything I can get for you? About all I can offer you would be books. Do you have a library there? If not, I’d be happy to send you some books to read. I just finished a wonderful Gothic story that I think you might like._

_Bae came in the other day and told me about his visit. I think he is doing well. He loves coming here to see me every now and then. I think he’s adjusting well, but he misses you terribly. So do I. I miss my friend and the best boss in the world._

There was more to say, but Belle kept her pen from jotting down those private thoughts. He had lost his wife and was locked behind bars, what good would it do him letting him know that she had a silly crush on him? The thought of Milah sent a pang of guilt in her heart. She had never cared for Mrs. Gold, had even fantasized that she would leave Callum on a few occasions, but now the woman was dead. Surely she was the worst person in the world for having wished a man’s wife gone like that.

            _Would it be all right if I came to visit you soon? I miss hearing your voice and simply talking to you. I can let you know more about how school and Storybrooke is doing, perhaps even bring you something from Bae._

_Please, write to me if you can. Know that I miss you and think of you all the time._

            She gnawed on the top of her pen, mulling over how to close it. She was tempted to put “Love, Belle” but that felt like too personal, but “you’re friend” seemed woefully lacking. Instead, she signed it as “You’re friend and favorite employee,” hoping that would make him smile a bit.

            Belle stuffed the letter in an envelope and addressed it. She hurried outside and put it into the public mailbox before she lost her nerve completely. Perhaps Joe, the mailman, would tell someone about her letter, but there were no secrets in this town anyways. Besides, she wasn’t ashamed of her friendship with Mr. Gold. She knew he was innocent, knew it in the bottom of her heart. There were other things in her heart as well, which had her musing that perhaps there was a secret of two in Storybrooke after all.

* * *

          The letter from Belle had been a lovely surprise. Killian had sent him pictures Bae had drawn and notes fairly regularly, but Gold hadn’t heard from Belle since he was convicted. He hadn’t expected to hear anything from her. She was young, and certainly had to be embarrassed about her association with him, so he had figured she would do the expected and sever all ties with him. Despite his expectations, there was a warmth in his heart when he saw her name on the envelope. He had missed her, more than he had anticipated he would.

            He took some of the plain paper he was given and used the back of a hardcover book as a desk. The pen he had was temperamental, but it was better than nothing. Zoso lay in his own bunk and showed no interest in what he was up to.

            _Dear Belle,_

_You have no idea how much it warms my heart to hear from you. Bae had said you were working in the library now. I suspect most of the shelves are empty since you have borrowed all of the books for yourself. I’m sure you must be relieved that you no longer have to deal with my accounts or my stock. Now you have your dream job: being paid to read._

            It almost seemed mocking, but he knew Belle would understand when he was teasing her.

            _If you happen to look up from between pages, do send me some of your books. While we have a library here, it is even smaller than yours and filled mostly with bodice rippers. Some of the men here enjoy that material, but I have never seen the appeal._

_I am well. While I wouldn’t say I’m not intending to be crowned Miss Congeniality of the cell-block, I’ve met some fellow prisoners who are not bad men, just made some mistakes. I miss you and Bae terribly. I find myself thinking of better times as well, and hoping that I can find them again._

_I won’t bore you with the legal details, but my lawyer is planning on filing an appeal. She seems confident it will be reviewed, but until then I must wait patiently._

_I hope school is going well for you. I’m sorry I won’t be of much help to you now, but promise me you won’t give up on it. You can do so much, Belle. I’ve always known that about you._

_Be well, my dearest friend. I look forward to hearing more from you._

_Ever yours,_

_Callum Gold_

            The letter was put in the next batch of mail. Less than a week later, Gold was handed over a package. Inside the pre-opened package was a book called _The Thirteenth Tale_ and a letter from Belle.

            _Dear Callum_ ,

            _I’ll have you know that the library is still quite full here. I’m very careful to borrow no more than five books at a time. I will say that I have learned quite a few things. Did you know that Mother Superior actually has a fondness for bodice rippers as well? Perhaps I should send you a list of her favorites so you can compare with your friends there._

_I do hope you enjoy the book I sent you. It’s a twisted story of family secrets, and it has quite a twist in it that I certainly did not see coming. Tell me what you think of it when you finish. I miss talking about books with you._

The letters continued between them. Gold enjoyed receiving a letter from Belle at least once a week or so, and a book here and there. He got so used to this that he nearly missed the fact that he hadn’t heard anything from Killian and Bae in a while. After six letters from Belle, Gold realized that the last note he had received from his son was before Belle had sent him that first book. Shame and worry rocked through him all at once. Why had it taken so long for him to realize he hadn’t heard from his son? Worse still, why hadn’t he received any word from Bae or Killian in weeks?

            The next day he went to make a phone call, a rarity since he was still new and hadn’t been given the privilege much. He dialed Killian’s number, but only received the three-note tone and the robotic voice telling him the phone number was no longer in service. That didn’t seem right. What the hell was going on?

            He tried the number three more times, but it was the same message over and over again. Had Killian gotten a new number? Why? Had something worse happened? Where was his son?

            Despite the pain he’d endured during the trial, it wasn’t until now that Gold truly felt helpless. He couldn’t do anything behind bars. All of his money had been turned over in trust to Bae and power of attorney belonged to Killian. He didn’t know how to get in touch with Killian now.

            Gold worried over it, staying up all night. By breakfast, he’d decided that there was nothing to be terribly concerned about. Killian probably dropped his cellphone in the ocean on his boat. Maybe he and Bae had gone out for a nice little vacation on the _Jolly Roger_. They probably just had to get away for a little while. They’d be back and have lots of stories to tell.

            When the guard told him that he had a visitor, Gold was relieved. It had to be Bae and Killian. He smiled broadly as he made his way to the visiting center. It faltered for only a moment when he saw it wasn’t his son at all.

            Belle grinned back at him from behind the glass and waved. His smile returned, despite his disappointment, he was more than happy to see her. She wore a lovely green blouse with a blue skirt and matching green flowers on it, always managing to look better than any model on those glossy magazines. “Hey,” she said in her usual bubbly way.

            “Hey back,” he teased her, “You look lovely.”

            “Thank you.”

            “Of course, at this point anything would be lovely after being stuck with only convicts for company.”

            Belle stuck her tongue out at him in retaliation.

            “I’m surprised to see you,” Gold told her, “You didn’t tell me you were planning to visit.”

            “That is the point of a surprise,” she said, “I missed talking to you, really talking to you.”

            “So do I, but I am enjoying your letters.”

            “And the books?”

            “Of course. _The Thirteenth Tale_ was particularly good.”

            Belle grinned at him. “I knew you would like it.”

            Their conversation quickly evolved into their usual debate on books. She had brought him three to read this time because she couldn’t decide which one he would like best. She also started talking to him about Storybrooke. Apparently the schoolteacher, Mary Margaret Blanchard, had been having an affair with David Nolan. It was quite the scandal, and the Nolans were definitely getting a divorce.

            “How is Bae doing?” he asked her, desperate to know something.

            “Oh, well I haven’t heard much from him, you know since he and Killian left.

            Gold felt his heart drop into his stomach. “Left?”

            “Yeah, they left, were headed down to Boston I think. Killian must have told you this, didn’t he?”

            Gold swallowed back his growing panic. He couldn’t let her worry about this. Belle had far too much on her plate as it was. “Of course he did,” Gold said, hoping he sounded convincing, “I just hadn’t realized they’d left already. I hadn’t received word from them yet.”

            “Oh, well I’m sure they are just busy getting things set up,” Belle said, “I’m sure Bae will tell you all about Boston soon enough.”

            “Yes,” he nodded, “I’m sure you’re right.”

            He returned to the phone the next day, this time making a call to the Storybrooke Post Office. Agatha Wiltshire was manned the phones at the Post Office and she was never that good at remembering people all that will. Gold did his best to hide his accent and hoped for the best.

            “Hi, It’s Killian Jones. I haven’t been receiving any of my mail since I arrived and I just want to make sure I got the address and phone number right for my transfer.”

            “Oh, no problem, Mr. Jones,” Agatha said. Good, she was as dense as he remembered.

            Agatha hummed some asinine tune in his ear while she rifled for through the paperwork. He started looking at the clock, hoping she wouldn’t use up all of his time by giving him an off-key rendition of _I Dream of Jeanie_.

            “Okay, I’ve got it.” Gold got his pencil and scrap paper ready. “I’ve got your new address as 732 Beaumont St N, Apartment 13. And your new number listed is 555-9771. Is that right?”

            “Yes, that is correct, thank you, Agatha,” Gold told her, “You’ve been most helpful.”

            He hung up quickly, grateful that he still had some time left, and quickly dialed the new number. It rang twice, then Killian answered with a cheerful, “Hello, who is this?”

            “Killian, what the hell are you doing?”

            “Callum?” the surprise in Killian’s voice would have amused Gold once, but not anymore, “Is that you?”

            “Yes, it’s me. Why are you in Boston? What the hell is going on?”

            “I’m sorry, man, we just needed to get away for a while. Bae was having nightmares. I thought a change of scenery would be good, and I got this new job lined up. I was going to tell you, but it happened so fast.”

            “Just put my son on the phone,” Gold seethed. The phone crackled a bit then he heard Bae’s tiny voice answer, “Papa?”

            “Oh, Bae, it’s good to hear your voice, son.”

            “Hi, Papa. We’re in Boston.”

            “I know you are. Are you all right?”

            “Yeah, but I miss you. Can you come visit?”

            Gold blinked back tears. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. But I’m sure Killian will bring you by to see me soon.”

            “But I want to go to the park with you.”

            “I want that too, son, I really do. I’m trying to get out of here to see you. I’ll find a way, I promise.”

            “Good,” Bae said, “Then it will be like it was before. You, me, and mommy.”

            Gold swallowed thickly. “Bae, honey, I told you, mommy is in heaven.”

            “No she’s not, she’s at the store.”

            Gold frowned at the wall. “What?”

            He heard the sound of a door opening, and then a familiar voice call out, “I’m home!” Gold felt all of the blood drain from his face. His heart stopped when Bae called out, “Mommy! Papa is on the phone!”

            “M-Milah?” he gasped out. Then the line went dead.

* * *

          For a full day, Gold was in shock. He didn’t think he said ten words to anyone. He ate his meals without tasting a thing. He crawled into bed, but stared at the top bunk with wide-eyes, trying desperately not to think about any of it. There was only one thing that resounded clearly through his muddled mind: Milah was alive.

            The next day, he broke through. He tried to sort out the facts. 1. Milah clearly hadn’t been murdered. 2. Killian some how had found her. 3. The two of them were hiding out together.

            Gold tried to piece all of that together into a clear picture. He had written down all of the crime scene evidence earlier while he tried to figure out the best approach for appeal. Now he added to that, trying to figure out how Milah was not dead and why she hadn’t come forward. He started positing various scenarios. Milah didn’t have any living family, saying her mother died of cancer when she was twelve and her father in a drunk-driving accident when she was in her twenties. Perhaps there was more to the story she had never told him. Was it possible she had been on the run? He’d heard of stories where people faked their deaths to hide form drug lords and crime bosses. Perhaps she had done that to protect him and Bae. Killian might have been digging into this and found her. Now they were in hiding together, trying to figure out a way to help him and bring their family back together.

            He started listing any details he knew about Milah’s past, anything that might give a lead to this theory. He worked for days on it, crossing things out and starting anew. He barely ate, didn’t sleep. Gold didn’t even realize that he had an observer.

            Gold had returned from a meeting with his lawyer to find Zoso sitting on his bed, leafing through his notes. “What the hell are you doing?” Gold demanded of him.

            “Browsing,” the older man said casually like he was looking through a book in a library.

            “That’s my personal information.”

            “Nothing is personal in prison, you should know that by now.”

            Gold reached out to take the notebook. “Give it back!” Zoso relinquished it without a fight. “I’m trying to find out what happened with my wife, it’s private.”

            “Oh I can see that,” Zoso said with a shrug, “Not going very well.”

            “It’s going just fine.”

            Zoso let out a mirthless chuckle. “You’re so blind, Gold. You’re wife’s alive and you’re confused as to how all of this happened?”

            Gold pursed his lips, desperately trying to control himself. This man was dangerous, but he’d always been a bit heedless of danger when his temper was at it’s highest. “I’m not confused. I’m working on it.”

            He laughed again. “You’re a smart man, right? Went to law school. I bet you graduated at the top of your class.”

            “Valedictorian,” Gold snapped at him.

            “Well, Val, seems to me that a smart man like you would know the simplest explanation is usually the right one.” Zoso said. He calmly stood up from Gold’s bed. At his full height, he was a few inches shorter than Gold, but the way he looked at him made Gold feel like one of Snow White’s dwarves.

            “The jury certainly reached that conclusion. Twelve average people with twelve average brains decided that the simplest explanation for a missing wife and a husband with a possible mistress and blood on his hands meant the husband killed her. I bet you would have thought the same thing if you were in their place.”

            Zoso took a step towards him. “You know the truth, Gold. It’s been whispering in your above-average mind like a tiny little worm, but you’ve been trying to ignore. Just say it. Say what you already know to be true.”

            Gold swallowed thickly, hating this man with every fiber of his being, and wishing he could deny it all.

            “Say it!” Zoso demanded.

            That worm he spoke of was screaming now. He was right. He couldn’t ignore it anymore.

            “They set me up,” he whispered hoarsely, “Milah and Killian, they did it together. They knew I would make sure to put everything in Bae’s name, and that I would give custody over to Killian. Once everything was final, they would just have to slip away and they would have everything: my money and my son. They planned it all. They planned to put me in prison so they could take everything away from me.”

            Bitter tears formed in his eyes, but he blinked them away. As much as the words hurt his throat, a weight had lifted from his shoulders. He could see everything so perfectly now. Killian’s remarks about his friendship with Belle were designed to make it look like he was having an affair. Milah had made sure to tell her friends how frightened she was of him. The getaway on their anniversary had been their idea. The sailing lessons…God, how could he have been so stupid to believe it all?

            Zoso clapped his hands and gave him a mocking smile. “Welcome to fucking Wonderland, Gold. Guess that bitch the Queen of Hearts got you good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOL, well if you have seen the movie, you knew this was coming. Still, I hope you enjoyed it. Next chapter: Gold comes to grip with this new reality and Zoso gives him some advice. Meanwhile, Gold's relationship with Belle continues to grow.
> 
> Also, the Thirteenth Tale is a book by Diane Setterfield and I highly recommend it.

**Author's Note:**

> Please review and tell me what you think!
> 
> Next chapter: Gold and Bae struggle with their loss and Gold realizes he is the prime suspect for her murder. As the trial commences, the danger that he will be convicted for a crime he didn't commit looms before him.


End file.
